


down on both bad knees

by cinnahearts



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e01-02 Juno Steel and the Man in Glass, this is in between man in glass and shadows on the ship because im a sucker for apology fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnahearts/pseuds/cinnahearts
Summary: Peter smiles, a slight mockery of the sharp grin that it used to be, but Juno’s heart flutters all the same. Seeing Peter smile, it feels less like he doesn’t deserve it, and more like he’s going to do whatever it takes to see that smile again.(or: everyone's healing through their emotional trauma, bitch,  let's get you some fruit)
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, background Buddy/Vespa because they're my favorite space wives
Comments: 22
Kudos: 147
Collections: The Penumbra Minibang 2019-2020





	down on both bad knees

**Author's Note:**

> i just want to apologize to everyone who thought this fic was going to be 9k. i don't know what happened
> 
> (super huge thanks to reynaskywalker for being my beta and general cheerleader!, to sam for keeping my head on my shoulders and making sure i didn't freak out, and an even bigger thank you to isa aeskoro for the beautiful art of juno and rita pre-heist, and to meg nyctictea for the lovely art of junebug and pete at the end! you guys have been so awesome!)

* * *

Juno doesn’t even blink when Peter — shit, no, Nureyev — introduces himself as Peter Ransom, hands coming up to straighten the lapels of his emerald green waistcoat as he does so. The way he speaks is so clipped, every sentence trimmed until it’s picture-perfect. He doesn’t ever spare Juno a fraction of a glance as he goes back to filing his nails in disinterest. His usual glitz and flair are barely present, a muted version of what it once was. It’s like someone’s painted him in greys and blacks, and Juno feels his heart shrink a little as he realizes it. 

Water rushes into Juno’s ears, filling up his head and drowning out every single word that Buddy says. Lead fills his veins, and if not for Rita’s warm yet somewhat sweaty grip on his hand, Juno’s pretty sure his knees would have buckled, sending him face-first into the metal flooring. The shock of Peter’s cool and collected self, the way his eyes impassively pass over Juno and the other members of the Carte Blanche, cold and calculating and categorizing, bores into Juno like a metal stake, puncturing his heart until it bleeds. 

For the few months Juno has truly known Peter, he knows the thief like the back of his own scarred, mottled hand. He knows that Peter only laughs into his hand if he knows the joke wasn’t all that good, knows that he always wears socks to bed since his feet are always cold for no fucking reason. He knows that Peter has the horrible habit of squishing all of his feelings down into a little box and locking it tight before shoving it down deep where no one should be able to get their hands on it. He recognizes the tells in Peter’s body; the tense shoulders and the curled lip, worried eyes darting around, shifting away from even the slightest brush of a shoulder. It makes Juno sad, that his one of many bad decisions has reduced _Peter Nureyev_ , of all men, to a wisp of his former self. 

Juno already knows what’s in Peter’s box of horrors; Juno’s consciousness bleeding into his head and how he kicked down proverbial doors like a toy soldier with its key wound taught, pushing the skeletons out of their closets and overturning his hat boxes full of memories until he found the one that fit his fancy. Unlike Juno, Peter has an odd habit of purposefully forgetting the things that have hurt him until he can spin them into some regaling tale that's sure to captivate anyone who listens hard enough. 

Juno remembers everything, down to the piece of his own shirt that he had torn off in the middle of it all to bite down on because the pain in his temples was enough to drive him into a screaming fit, and Miasma was not a woman to be woken up earlier than she wanted to. He remembers thrashing around at odd hours, rivers of blood pouring from his nose and he remembers Peter being there to wipe it up and soothe him back to sleep with honeyed words and a barely-there kiss on the forehead.

He remembers the owlish-looking man with the kind eyes named Mag. The Guardian Angel System, in all its murderous and resplendent glory. Peter Nureyev, a small, shrewish thing, painted in the blood-red lights of the room where he had killed the man who had promised him the world for the price of everyone on its surface, clutching the knife in his hands like it was the only thing keeping his lungs from collapsing onto themselves like crumpled paper lanterns at the bottom of a trash can. His mind kept replaying Mag’s back dripping with blood, viscous with revenge, his eyes widened in shock, and the terrifying glint in Peter’s eyes as all he had ever known crumbled down around him. 

The Lassonionic capsule had long since vacated the space it once occupied, taking his eye and sharp sight with it, but no one could forget the images that Juno had seen when his consciousness melted into Peter’s. 

Not even if they wanted to. 

From the little bits and pieces Juno has seen of Mag from Nureyev’s memories, there’s something similar in how the deceased man and the brand-new, limited edition, don’t-get-too-close-to-the-glass, Peter Ransom carry themselves; shoulders held back to intimidate the man standing next to them into not standing so close, hands kept at a polite distance yet close enough for you to catch snatches of them out of the corner of your eyes. The way their eyes flick to moving things, looking them up and down, possibly nodding in approval if they liked what they saw or the slight raise of an eyebrow before averting their gaze entirely.

_Father and son. I didn’t know they made dignitaries in pairs._

Juno almost doesn’t realize someone’s talking to him until he feels a light brush on the back of his neck. All the hairs on his body instantly stand up and his hands move to protect his head, then stop before he can dig his fingers into the downy curls at the bottom of his neck. Somehow, he feels safer on this spaceship full of halfway strangers than he’s ever felt sitting in a room with people who could read him front and back like yesterday’s news feed. 

It’s an odd feeling to have, but Juno welcomes it nonetheless.

“The meeting has commenced, Juno,” Jet says, his baritone voice rattling around in Juno’s head like someone’s filled it with marbles and shook him like a rag doll. “Miss Rita has left some notes for you, though I cannot assure you of their legibility.” He gestures to a notepad sitting on the table, covered in multicolored scribbles, and what unfortunately looks like cheese-dust covered fingerprints at the edges of the paper.

Juno laughs, a quick puff of air out of the side of his mouth. It’s nothing much, but it’s enough to make Jet’s eyebrows lift up in what one would call an expression of moderate surprise, especially if one were to have the deep and intensive knowledge of Jet Siquiliak’s limited facial expressions. 

“Rita...” Juno sighs fondly, taking her notepad into his hands. “You either learn to love her or die trying.” His hands feel grimy with the sheer amount of glitter and _something sticky_ that covers the pad’s exterior, but some part of him can’t bear to put it down and scrub his hands until they’re pink and raw, like the more rational part of his brain is screaming at him to do. It’s just that something about holding Rita’s things makes him happy, like holding Ben’s dance shoes while he packed up after practice or carrying Sasha’s books for her while she stayed after to talk to a teacher. It’s the nature of being viewed as useful that makes Juno feel safe, makes him feel wanted, and tangible and _human._

It feels nice knowing he’s wanted by these people, that he’s worth keeping around for a few minutes more.

Jet seems to notice his inner turmoil, maybe it shows on his face with a wrinkle of the brow or a pursed lip, as he lifted a large hand to place on his shoulder. He squeezes Juno’s shoulder lightly, although, from his height, it’s a bit intimidating. “Do not worry, Juno Steel,” he says. “It may take some getting used to, but Buddy would not have taken you along if she didn’t think you could handle it. You will do fine.”

The timbre of Jet’s voice rumbles through Juno’s bones, and oddly enough, he feels at ease. “Y’know what? Thanks, big guy.” He pats the closest body part of Jet’s that he can reach, which happens to be his forearm. “I really needed that.”

Jet’s mouth quirks up into the smallest hint of a smile, kind of like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. Juno’s really used to those, so he flashes one back. “Glad I could be of assistance to you, Juno Steel. Good night.” He pats Juno’s shoulder again and heads off down the hallway towards his room. 

Juno hefts Rita’s notebook in his hands one last time and slips it into the inside pocket of his newer jacket. Rita had bullied him into buying it on their last supply stop after his first one had caught the tails of an acid bomb on Estral and was currently being cut into rags by Vespa for the medical bay. It was sleeker, adhered better to the shape of his body, and didn’t reek heavily of Martian sewer grease and various alcohols that _probably_ shouldn’t have been mixed together at their time of consumption. 

Vespa said it made him look even more like a jackass than humanly possible, which made him like it even more. 

Juno knocks quietly on the door to Rita’s room, and it slides open instantly. 

“Boss!” she yells. “You came! C’mon, c’mon, we gotta get started!” Not caring how her voice echoes down the metal hallways or the fact that there are about four other people currently trying to sleep, she pulls Juno into her room without even watching the door close behind them.

Everything is already set up for their regular movie night; all the blankets and pillows Rita has mysteriously accumulated are piled on her bed and various snack containers peppered about. She just about pushes Juno into the bathroom and shoves a pair of comfy looking pajamas into his hands. 

“Change into these while I get the movie started!” Then the door slides shut again, and Juno can hear the faint sound of Rita bustling around her room. 

Juno changes quickly, hanging his coat on one of the towel hooks. Hopefully, Rita doesn’t mind him using one of her makeup wipes so he can take off his eyeliner and lipstick, and he places all of his piercings in the small bowl she leaves for him by the sink. When he looks in the mirror, a softer version of himself stares back, and it takes a moment for Juno to realize how healthy he actually looks now; how his skin has lost its yellow pallor and the wrinkles around his eye are smoothening out, how his hair isn’t thinning from stress or airborne pollution or acid rain or any one of Hyperion City’s many, many little bonuses. 

It’s stupid how familiar he is with all this, how _comfortable_ he is, but Juno doesn’t mind it one bit.

A lady could get used to a routine like this. 

Rita practically coos when he comes out of the bathroom, which is weird, considering their relationship and the fact that she’s probably older than him, but Juno blushes nonetheless. “Aww, boss, you look so comfy!” She pats the space next to her on the bed and Juno lowers himself down onto the plush surface, his knees creaking like door hinges as he does.

That should be concerning, but since Juno probably isn’t as sprightly as he used to be, it goes onto his growing list of bodily pains for Vespa to examine. 

Rita hands him a small headband to hold his hair back from his face and a jar of some skin goop her and Ransom picked up on their last supply run, and she helps him smear it all over his face. It smells vaguely minty with something vaguely fruity and medicinal, and some dumb part of Juno wants to lick at the small bit on his bottom lip just to see how it tastes, but Rita smacks his hand before he can even think about it. 

“Don’t eat it, boss. I have those honey-jalapeno wafers you like, but you can’t go eatin’ my face masks! It’ll make ya _real_ sick!” Part of Juno feels like she speaks from a place of experience, but he loses that thought when Rita wags a cheese-dust covered finger in his face until Juno feels himself go cross-eyed. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Juno rolls his eye, but he reaches for the sleeve of wafers by Rita’s left elbow and digs in with the vigor of a man on death row.

Tonight’s stream is somewhat interesting, it’s a romantic sci-fi movie that Rita won’t stop raving about whenever there’s a lull in the conversation. He catches snatches of dialogue while he paints Rita’s nails, his bad eye turned towards the screen as he does so. The neon green paint glides over her nails like muscle memory and Juno silently preens about how good it looks. As he caps the polish, Rita huffs obnoxiously onto her hands to dry it, at least until Juno gets tired of smelling the salami and chocolate on her breath, so he glares at her until she stops. She smiles sheepishly and tucks her hands behind her back, careful not to smear any polish on the blankets. 

Halfway through the stream, they have to pause it so Rita can try to properly wash the mask off of Juno’s face while he begrudgingly lets her do so. It’s taxing, as the mask has begun to dry and flake off in certain areas, and Rita tries not to scrub too hard in order to get it all off. Juno wouldn’t be opposed to just dipping his face into boiling water for a hot minute just to get it all off, but Rita is adamant that he has to start taking better care of his skin since they’d be in so many different environments and it could really mess up his skin if he wasn't careful, but Juno can’t be bothered to care. 

“Mista Steel, what do you think about Mista Ransom-Morales-Shah-Glass?” Rita asks, dipping her fingertips into a small pot and rubbing its contents onto Juno’s forehead. He’s pretty sure he has wrinkles there too, but if Rita sees them, she doesn’t say anything. 

“And be honest! I know you two had that whole _thing_ where you disappeared for a few months and then came back with no eye and a bad temper, so I don’t think I like him very much, but don’t let that get you down, boss!”

How exactly _does_ Juno feel about this new Peter Ransom? Part of him wanted to show off how much he’s improved without Peter having to hold his hand through everything and coddle him and treat him like he’s something worth hiding from the world, but he knows that would only rub salt in the wound of _whatever_ it was that they had. Some gnarled, ugly thing in his chest wants to hate Peter, but the rest of him loves Peter too much to say it out loud. Peter Nureyev was, _is_ , a falling star that Juno got lucky enough to wish on again and again, but he took that wish for granted, and now it won’t ever come true. What Juno still feels for Peter, it can’t be said in words. It’s too embarrassing, something like what you would hear in the early afternoon streams for older women looking for something to fill their time. Juno regrets every ‘ _i love you’_ he kept hidden under his tongue and now the weight of all that’s been left unsaid presses down on his heart like a water balloon under a hydraulic press. 

Juno sweats a little, and Rita dabs it away with a tissue. “Uh, it’s nice to see him again, I guess,” is what Juno actually says because he is an idiot. “His hair grew a little, I think it’s a good look on him.” 

Rita moves the washcloth away from his face and fixes him with a disbelieving look, eyebrow raised and all. Then she caps the small jar of moisturizer and gives Juno’s cheek a small pat. “If you’re sure, then I’m sure, Mista Steel!” 

Juno doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s not even sure how he feels about Peter anymore.

“How’re you liking space life, Rita?” He ruffles her hair a little, delighting in hearing her screech like a strangled sewer rabbit.

She fluffs up the area Juno had mussed and looks at him coldly, though he knows she’s fighting a smile. “Well, I was enjoyin’ it a lot more before my dumb boss came and messed up my hair _again_!” She sticks her tongue out at him, and Juno laughs a little, clutching his belly as it shakes him. 

Then there’s a sharp knock at the door. It’s barely there, a small rapping noise then it's gone, but Juno and Rita both freeze like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Maybe, if we pretend we’re asleep, whoever is will just leave us alone!” Rita stage-whispers, and it's already a lost cause at that point, but Juno really doesn’t have another social interaction in him for the night.

Whoever is at knocks again, like the bastard they are. “Rita, darling? Are you in there?”

Son of a _bitch._

“It’s Mista Ransom!” Rita screeches, and Juno winces. 

“Quick, boss, you gotta hide!” She begins shoving him back towards the bathroom, which draws confusion from Juno.

He holds up his hands, bracing himself on either side of the bathroom’s door frame. “Wait, wait, why do I need to hide? Can’t you and Ransom just talk while I watch the movie?” 

Rita shoves harder. “Be _cause_ , Mista Ransom and I hafta talk about some _secret_ lady stuff, and you kinda can’t be here while we do! But don’t you worry, I’m gonna fix you up with a stream and some snacks and my earpods, and you should be all fine and dandy!” She punctuates her last words with a final shove and Juno falls neatly onto his ass on the tile floor.

“Ow, hey! Rita!” By the time Juno has rubbed the impending crick out of his back, Rita has thrown at least half of her bed into the bathroom with him and shut the door behind her. The bathroom door is thin enough that he can hear her talking to Ransom, but he’d probably need to have his ear up to the door in order to hear anything.

And in all honesty, Juno thinks minding his own business for once might be a lot less work on his part. He can hear the musical rise of Peter’s voice, how it lilts like the croon of a Venusian lounge singer, mixed with the brassy tones of Rita’s own. His hearing is shit due to all the stun blasts that have nearly taken chunks out of both of his ears, so he can’t make out any of their conversations, but the voices of his two favorite people fit oh-so-perfectly into his heart. 

Sighing, Juno abandons his horrible attempt at being nosy and leans against the side of the tub, propping Rita’s laptop upon his knees. The stream is thankfully paused where they had last left it, the main character and their outdated A.I. love interest caught between their budding romance and the end of the world. It’s kinda cheesy, but Juno can see why Rita likes it. The main character, Aina, is rude and brash but holds a soft spot for the things they hold close. The love interest, Rae, is kinda spacey at times, but they get shit done. It’s a super good pairing, dynamic-wise, and Juno is actually _super_ invested...

Eventually, Juno finds himself crying about five minutes into the final scene. It’s so dumb, there’s really no reason for him to cry, but he’s really into this story and to anyone else, it wouldn’t even be a big deal but movies like this remind him of the rom-com movies Ben liked so much, with the horrible acting and super-obvious sets. 

So Juno’s sniffling alone in a bathroom like an idiot and he feels kinda embarrassed about it because his eye is all red and puffy, and his nose is probably running all over the place, so he sniffs and wipes his nose on Rita’s pajamas, grimacing when his face remains tacky with dried tears. 

It only gets worse when the bathroom door slides open.

“We have _got_ to stop meeting like this, Detective.”

Juno looks up, wipes his eye, and the lithe form of Peter Ransom stands, leaning in the doorway like he’s been summoned by a higher being. Rita stands behind him, arms outstretched like she had been trying to keep him from opening the door in the first place. Juno shoots her a look of betrayal that can only come from the deepest pits of a sibling scorned. 

“Oh, uh, hey!” Juno scrubs a hand over his face, wincing when it comes back sticky with snot. “Just enjoying a movie. On the floor of a bathroom. Nothing weird about that, right?” 

Peter cocks an eyebrow, that wonderful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yes, I’ve heard that certain movies can be enjoyed regardless of the environment they’re enjoyed in, Detective. I’m glad to see you’ve picked up on that sentiment.” Peter smiles, a slight mockery of the blinding grin that it used to be, but Juno’s heart flutters all the same. Seeing Peter smile, it feels less like he doesn’t deserve it, and more like he’s going to do whatever it takes to see that smile again. 

Juno laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Peter smiles again, his sharp teeth barely poking at his plush bottom lip, and Juno feels the skin under his hand grow hot like coals. 

Jeez, not seeing Peter in these past few months has made him into the world’s most embarrassing teenager, except he’s trapped in the body of an emotionally constipated old person with one too many holes through their abdomen. 

“Y’know what they say, nothing’s better than watching a stream five inches away from where someone’s lost their lunch,” Juno says. It reminds him of the times he and Ben would hide from Sarah Steel and her venomous rage, staying huddled in their small bathtub while a movie played on their shared port screen with several spiderweb cracks running down the center. They’d giggle together as Andromeda did what she did best; saved people with a smile on her face and determination in her step, mimicking her sword movements in the tiny space that they had.

Peter folds a thoughtful finger under his chin and cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that saying before, though I believe I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Well, it's a pretty common practice on Mars.” Juno chuckles again, and the silence settles deeply around the both of them. Juno finds his eye drawn to the lyrical slant of Peter’s upper lip, then they quickly flick back up to his eyes once Rita clears her throat. 

“Mista Steel, if you don’t mind leavin’ me and Mista Ransom to talk about our, um.” She makes a face like she doesn’t know what to say next. 

Ransom pipes up. “Business,” he oh-so-helpfully responds in the harsh sleet gray voice that Juno has attributed to Peter Ransom. Whatever moment Juno thought he might have had with whatever might have been left of Peter Nureyev has been snatched away and quietly tucked into the lapels of someone’s waistcoat, hopefully never to be seen again. 

“Right, uh.” Juno wipes his eye again and picks himself up off the ground. His knee twinges and he nearly goes tumbling into the metal frame of the bathroom door, when slim fingers wrap around his bicep, keeping the crown of his head from kissing the door frame like lovers reunited. 

“Ah, careful there.” Ransom’s voice sounds strained, and Juno remembers that for all his height, Peter was never good at putting on muscle. As for Juno, he’s mostly just hard muscle and a little bit of fat, as compared to Peter’s lithe form. He extracts himself from Peter’s delicate hold and sees himself out of Rita’s room. Their conversation picks up right as the door slides shut, and for once, Juno is at a loss of where to go. There’s a light on in the kitchen, so he picked up what little pieces of his pride remained and headed in that direction. 

The light, as it turned out, had been Buddy taking her nightly nutrient supplements. She greets Juno with a quiet quirk of her eyebrow and a raise of her glass. Juno didn’t think it was his place to ask what was in it, so he doesn’t.

“Evening, detective.” Buddy takes a sip from her glass and sets it down, nails curling around it as she does. “I’d ask what brings you here, but judging from the state of your visage, it’s none of my business.” She punctuates the end of her sentence by producing a plain handkerchief from one of the many pockets of her nightgown and handing it to Juno. “Clean yourself up, for your own sake, if not mine.”

He takes it and runs it under the faucet for a second, then scrubs the crust and regret from his face. It’s probably red in some areas, but Juno can’t bring himself to care. 

“Thanks,” he says, folding up the handkerchief and tucking it into his pocket. Hopefully, he’ll remember to wash it before Buddy comes looking for it. “I needed that.”

Buddy chuckles, swirling the liquid in her glass around. “I could tell, darling.” She takes another sip from her glass, then goes back to reading from the datapad that Juno hadn’t seen in front of her. 

Well, so long as he’s in the kitchen, it would do him some good to eat something. 

Juno goes to the fridge and pulls out a couple of things he hopes are edible; a Duskant root vegetable, some leafy things Jet said tasted good, and what looked like an Earth bell pepper. The spice collection is a little intimidating considering all Juno ever used was salt and pepper, but he manages to sniff out a few things that smell like they wouldn’t kill him if mixed together. Then there’s oil, and of course some leftover sim-noodles, but Juno has cooked enough pasta in his life to the point where it probably won’t hurt him too badly if he fucked it up. 

Probably. 

While he peels and sections the root, Buddy looks up from her datapad, seemingly shocked to see him making anything other than a glass of whiskey or some half-assed sandwich. “Why, detective, I didn’t know you could cook?”

Juno looks up, eye a little wide from breaking his concentration. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s just a little skill I picked up here and there, no big deal.”

Buddy’s lip curves into a pleased smile, almost like she’s _proud_. “Alright then, don’t let me stop you.” She settles back into her chair and lifts the datapad closer to her face, scrutinizing its contents. 

The now-chopped-and-peeled root goes into a pot with some of the oil and spices, which Juno stirs for a while before letting it simmer. He washes the greens, making sure all the dirt and grit and whatnot are out of the grooves in the leaves before patting them dry and cutting them into smaller pieces and throwing them in the pot as well. The spices go in too, and Juno smiles a little seeing that they had managed to snag some fresh garlic instead of the fake shit, so he throws that in there too. By now, the greens have cooked down a lot, so Juno lowers the heat as he chops up the bell pepper. 

Buddy looks up from her datapad again. “Juno, dear, that smells amazing. Are you _sure_ this is just a hobby of yours?” 

“I mean?” Juno looks up from where he’d been rummaging through the fridge again. “It started as a hobby when I was younger?” 

Cooking for Ben when their mom would come home and slam the door to her office shut, not paying a single sliver of attention to her two starving children. It had started out with lumpy rice and soup with too much salt, but seeing Ben eat something other than the crackers and juice from his afterschool program had made Juno so happy; he’d wanted to be better for his little brother. 

So, he learned. He made pancakes until his hands felt like they were going to fall off, studied how to make a good stir-fry in the middle of his English lesson. Day by day, the number of his brother’s protruding ribs lessened and lessened, and Juno felt whole again. 

The whole cooking thing carried on after Ben had died, Juno would cook meals to eat at his grave so his little brother wouldn’t have to worry about him wasting away. He made small breakfasts for when he still worked for the HCPD, and even smaller ones once he quit. Once in a while, Rita would get a small, if not deformed, cake for her birthday, but Juno would wholeheartedly deny any knowledge of where it came from until Rita stopped pestering him about it. 

He never got to make a meal for Peter, and that always stung more than any stray laser would. They would never dance around each other in the kitchen, share a space and a meal together, it apparently just wasn’t meant for them to have.

“Well, I have to say you’re quite talented from the smell of it, dear.” Buddy smiles again, smaller this time. “Maybe we can have Jet enlist you into helping with breakfast one of these days.”

Juno smiles, but it falls short of genuine by just an inch. “Yeah, maybe.” 

He finishes his stir-fry off with the leftover noodles from last night’s spaghetti and makes a plate for Rita before putting the leftovers in the fridge.

“Is it cool if I eat this in my room?” Juno asks, lifting the food in question.

Buddy sets her datapad down, fixing Juno with a look that he can’t quite decipher. “Don’t let me stop you from eating, Detective. You need every bite you can get.” Her hair shifts slightly to the left, and Juno catches an accidental glimpse of the cybernetic plating making up her left eye, before shifting his gaze to the floor, face burning with shame like a child caught looking at something they shouldn’t be. 

She pats his shoulder in what Juno hopes is forgiveness, then glides out of the kitchen. “Don’t forget to turn out the light before you leave, dear!” she calls out, then Buddy Aurinko is gone.

Juno stands still for a moment, then turns out the light like Buddy asked and leaves. Before he heads back to his room, he stops by Rita’s room to drop off the food. Her eyes nearly turn into twin Venusian moons at the sight of the covered plate, and he can already hear the high-pitched squeal building up in the back of her throat.

“This is just a late-night snack, Rita.” He looks around, and it seems like Ransom has left. The tension drops from his shoulders, and he sighs. “Don’t expect this every day, I just decided you needed more than Dusty Crunchies to get you through the night.”

She squeals anyways and rushes forward to hug Juno around the middle. The plates in his hands nearly crash to the floor as he stumbles backward, but he manages to keep his balance. “Thank you, Boss!” she says into his shirt, and Juno smiles purely because he knows she can’t see him. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Juno untangles himself from his secretary and goes to set Rita’s plate down on her desk. He clears off a few wrappers and makes a mental note to return most of her mugs to the kitchen before they’re drinking coffee off of the plates instead. “And stop calling me your boss, you don’t work for me anymore. It’s weird.”

“I know! It’s just fun to say!” Rita gives him another hug, and he kisses the top of her head in lieu of a goodnight, then he leaves.

Juno slides into his room with a quiet sigh. His food is still steaming slightly, so he sits down and takes a few bites, his stomach rumbling quietly as he does. Once he’s eaten his fill, Juno sets the empty dish on his bedside table and lays down, fluffing the blankets around him before finally snuggling in and getting comfortable.

He still has to adapt to the whole “3 meals a day” thing, which isn’t so hard when everyone on the ship is trying their damnedest to shove food down his throat. Breakfast is easy since he’s used to eating whatever Rita would bring with her when she clocked in, it's lunch and dinner that usually catch him off guard. His body has set itself into the routine of usually skipping meals, as he would be too busy with typing up a case or actually working it to worry about eating once it got dark. Buddy’s nice enough about it; leaving a plate of that night’s dinner outside his door with a light knock before heading off to bed. Vespa prefers to knock repeatedly at his door until he opens it, to which she responds with a shit-eating grin at his level of annoyance. By then, Juno’s usually too pissed to go back to bed, so he follows Vespa out into the kitchen and eats whatever Jet’s cooked up. 

Peter came to get him for dinner once, after a particularly bad job had left Juno with a starburst-shaped splatter right between his first and second ribs, the pull of healing scar tissue making it a bitch to do anything but sit around in the medbay and feel sorry for himself. That night, he had knocked on the door to the medbay, smiling when Juno raised his head.

_“Ah, I see you’re finally awake, Detective.” He’d smiled more back then, rare and beautiful, and Juno’s pain-addled mind had eaten it up like it was candy._

_Juno remembers struggling to get up for a minute before Peter rushed over and pressed those warm, strong hands onto the small of his back and slowly helped him sit up. “Careful there, Juno,” he’d said softly, and Juno felt a slow, sappy, smile crawling its way across his face._

_“You said my name,” Juno had said dopily, and he remembers the shocked blush that all but consumed Peter’s face as he coughed off to the side in order to school his face into something less, well, red._

_Peter coughed a bit more before turning to Juno with that saccharine smile. “So it seems I have, dear Detective.” He helps Juno sit up against the pillows, brushing an errant lock of hair out of his face. “I just can’t stay away from you for too long, can I?” he’d whispered, and Juno frowned a little bit._

_“That’s okay,” he said, patting Peter’s arm. “I missed you. A lot.” He smiles again, and Peter’s eyes go wide for a fraction of a second before softening into a look that can only be described as cavity-inducing._

_“I missed you too, dearest Juno.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to the center of Juno’s forehead, who leans into the touch as if it will last forever. “I’ll be right back with your dinner, don’t fall asleep on me.” And then, in a swish of his lavender coat, he was gone, and Juno fell asleep not even a second later._

Looking back on it, Juno’s sure Nureyev only indulged him because he knew Juno was likely to have no memory of it once the painkillers wore off, But he did, and it’s nights like these where he stayed up, looking at the smooth chrome ceiling, and wished it had lasted a little longer. 

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Juno grumbles, then rolled over to turn off his lamp.

* * *

Their next job goes about as well as anyone would expect it to, which is to say: horrible. 

Their client wants them to infiltrate a wedding party, where the famed Lavidian Emeralds are going to be, hoping to trade the jewels for valuable information about the Cure Mother, which sounds a little stupid to Juno because who brings something so expensive and actively sought after to a wedding of all places? You might as well paint a target on the back of your head in bright red paint and walk around with a sign that reads “PLEASE STEAL FROM ME”, but no one ever asks for his opinion at the planning table, so Juno pointedly does _not_ mention this line of thinking to either Buddy or Jet. They’d landed on the planet of Njova, about a week ago, scoped out the nearby civilians, and built up hearty personas in case anyone questioned their presence on the planet. 

“Alright, listen up. This is the last time we’re going over this” Buddy places a blood-red fingernail on the map that they’ve reviewed a million times but someone (Rita) always insists that they go over the plan in thirty minutes intervals. “Ransom, you and Juno dear will be going undercover as Eurydice and Orpheus Voler, an esteemed pair of collectors invited by the distant family of Xiomara, one of the brides. Our intel says that the Emeralds will most likely be either a wedding gift or on the person of someone attending the party, so keep an eye out. Jet and I will be tonight’s entertainment, as the scheduled singer came down with a bit of a nasty cold. It’s a wonderful coincidence, so we’re doing our best to take advantage of it.”

Juno pauses. The name Xiomara is disturbingly familiar to him, but thanks to the THEIA Soul, there are so many uncomfortable lapses in his memory that he can’t tell what’s real and what’s just been fabricated to help him feel better. 

Hm. Oh well. 

Her finger moves across the map to a smaller building opposite the wedding hall. “Vespa and Rita will be running reconnaissance from inside this apartment complex, which is above the wedding hall we’ll be in tonight. The owners have been away for a while, so we don’t expect there to be any sort of interference from their end. If your cover gets blown, notify us _immediately_ so we can set our diversion in place, and above all, I want everyone in this room to make it back on board alive if you would be so kind as to do so.”

Her eyes silently land on Juno, who shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m like a magnet for danger at this point, Buddy.” Buddy’s eyes narrow further, and she feels a migraine begin to build in her temples. 

He laughs, then stops short when he sees her stony gaze. “At this point, I think it would be easier for me to just shoot myself in the foot before we leave just to be sure that nothing will happen.”

Buddy sighs deeply, leaning on her elbows and rubbing her temples. Vespa comes up behind her and places a hand on her waist, which makes her relax marginally. “Just try not to get hurt too badly, Steel. There’s only so much bone-knitting injection and bandages to go around, yeah?”

Juno nods, and the creases in Buddy’s forehead relax a little. “Everyone, go get dressed, and we’ll meet back here for a final debrief. You’re all dismissed.” Buddy all but slumps into the chair behind her like a marionette with its strings cut and begins scribbling furiously on a notepad, her wife a quiet reassurance beside her. She sighs again, harder this time, and buries her face in her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it, Bud.” Vespa rubs a reassuring hand over her wife’s shoulder, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. “We’ve run harder jobs before, and with less time too.” She goes in for another kiss, and Buddy meets her halfway, smiling against her lips. 

“Thank you, love, I needed that.” Grabbing Vespa’s hand, Buddy smiles up at her. “I just can’t help but worry about Juno and Peter. Ever since we’ve left Mars, there’s been… something between the two of them.”

Vespa makes a face like she’s bitten into something sour. “You pay that much attention to Steel? I thought his face was just, like, permanently twisted up like that.”

Buddy laughs, placing a hand over Vespa’s. “I mean it, darling. I know we’re both past our days of broken hearts and lovelorn glances, but seeing those two in a room together is enough to drive anyone insane. I hope they’ll be okay working this job, I’d hate to have to take them off of another one.”

“I say just throw them both out of the airlock and be done with it,” Vespa mutters under her breath, sparking another melodious laugh from Buddy. 

* * *

“Oh, Boss, you’re gonna look so pretty!” Rita tugs Juno into her room and the door slams shut behind the both of them. She runs over to her bed and pulls out a worn leather trunk, overflowing with fabrics of all kinds.

Juno gulps. “Rita, now I don’t think all this is necessary. It’s just a job, in and out, super easy and super _low profile._ ” He grinds the last word out as Rita begins pulling dresses and suits of all kinds from the trunk. 

“Mista Steel!” she gasps, looking affronted as she turns around. “You’re going to a wedding! You have to look pretty and gorgeous and absolutely splendiferous or else stepping outside of your house will be a waste of time!” She throws a pile of clothes at his face to punctuate the end of her sentence, then goes back to looking in her trunk. 

Juno groans, pulling the mass of dresses and suit jackets off of his face. “Y’know what? I don’t think you’re even using that word correctly!”

Rita scoffs, turning a blouse this way and that to see how the pattern catches in the light. “Who cares, Mista Steel! You can’t go out in your pajamas or whatever it is you call formal wear! Franny says that outfit etiquette is always important for every event ever! And Franny is only wrong about a quarter of the time, so we’re definitely taking her advice!” 

Juno walks over and all but blanches at the depth of the trunk that Rita’s pulled out. “Where the hell did you even get that thing? I didn’t even see you bring that on board!”

“A lady never reveals her secrets, Mista Steel!” Rita sits back on her heels and sighs. “I couldn’t find anything good-looking, though. And Miss Buddy already brought your dress-thingy up a few hours ago, so I don’t even know why I bother sometimes!” 

Juno reaches over and pats her head. “Don’t worry, you tried your best. Let’s just go ahead and get this all over with.”

The dress itself is in a giant, opaque bag, and Juno is a little intimidated by the size of it. There’s a smaller box off to the side of it, which Juno prays doesn’t hold any sort of accessories but some part of him knows it most likely does. 

Rita unzips it, and she screams so loud Juno fears she’ll pass out. “MISTA STEEL LOOK IT’S SO PRETTY!!” She pulls a mass of pink tulle and gold leaf embroidery out of the bag, and it is a pretty damn beautiful dress. Once Rita gets it all out, the gown is made of light pink tulle and lace and is completely covered in gold leaf and little embroidered roses near the bodice. Once the dress is all the way pulled out, there’s also billowing sleeves with lace roses and it’s the perfect level of ostentatious for a wedding. 

Juno absolutely hates it.

“C’mon, c’mon, we gotta get it all on!” Rita shoves him into the bathroom with the giant dress and practically forces him into it. It fits perfectly, with the lacy collar not digging into his neck and the sleeves settling nicely around his arms. The heart-shaped cut out at the chest is somewhat shy of tasteful, but it’ll pass for a wedding. He’s lucky that the bathrooms are as large as they are because the width of the skirt is something to be reckoned with. 

“Aw, Boss! Don’t cha look absolutely lovely!” Rita flutters about like a little bee, absolutely fawning over each and every detail of the dress itself. “You look so pretty, everyone’s gonna be so jealous of you tonight!” She tugs him out of the bathroom and sits him down at her vanity, the dress poofing out around him as he flops down into the chair. There’s a pot of gold eyeliner sitting on the counter along with a bunch of decorative jewels and random eyeshadow she has strewn about. She gets to work immediately, rubbing lotions and primers all over his face until he starts squirming under her attention. 

“Aren’t you excited, Mista Steel?! This is one of the coolest jobs we’ve ever done, not counting that Yardvigian casino we scammed a couple of weeks ago, but this one’s so fancy and elegant. And there’s gonna be a bunch of finger sandwiches and those ‘oar dove’ thingies that Mista Ransom talks about whenever we go to parties, so you gotta pinky-promise to bring me back some so I know what all the fuss is about!”

“You mean hors d'oeuvres?” Juno raises an eyebrow, careful not to open his eye while Rita’s fingers are so close to them. 

“Yeah, those thingies! I thought I said that!” She pats a little cosmetic glue onto Juno’s cheek before sticking a few jewels on there. “Honestly, you shouldn’t second guess your oldest friend, Boss. What have we learned time and time again?” 

He sighs. “The R in Rita stands for right... Listen, are you done yet?” Juno rolls his eye, but his lips pull into a fond smile. “We’ve got an actual _job_ to do here, Rita.”

He hears her make a few satisfied hums here and there as she dusts a small brush over his cheekbones, fluffs up his hair with her hands, and finally, her presence moves away. “Okay, all done!”

When Juno opens his eye, he’s a bit taken aback at his reflection. There’s simple gold eyeliner on his eye, and a bright pink eyeshadow is dusted on his lower lid. There’s a little glitter on his inner corner and along his cheekbones. Rita’s put a few of the decorative jewels near his eye like crystallized tears, and it’s quite beautiful if he’s being honest. From somewhere, Rita’s wrestled a dusty pink lipstick on him, and all together, Juno looks _amazing_. There’s a little bit of decorative glitter in his beard as well, and Juno resists the urge to see how it catches in the light of the room. His eyepatch is light pink, with a pattern of embroidered roses going across it.

“Rita, you really know how to make a lady look beautiful.” He brings her in for a tight hug and smiles. 

She giggles, arms wrapping tight around Juno’s waist. “I keep telling ya, Boos. You’ve always been a pretty lady, I’m just accentuatin’ what’s already there!”

Juno kisses the side of her head, laughing more when Rita shoves his head away. “Alright then, let’s go crash a wedding.”

Rita tugs him out of her room, careful not to pull on the skirt as they make their way into the hallway. She has the box of accessories tucked under her shoulder, which worries Juno because his dress is already gaudy enough so what else is there?

Peter stands in at the end of the hallway, leaning up against the wall as he laces up a pair of black ankle boots. He looks up as Juno’s skirt comes into his periphery, and a slow, toothy smile crawls across his face. 

“Well then, aren’t you a sight worth seeing, my dear Eurydice.” Peter stands to his full height, sharp teeth glinting in the fluorescent light of the hallway. He looks quite handsome, in a lacy white shirt that seems to billow out like a mass of clouds with a large silk bow at the neck. His pants are, somehow, the same dusty pink as Juno’s lipstick, and they flare out to just cover the top of his boots. He’s gotten a shawl from somewhere and buttoned it at the neck so it drapes over his shoulders. As a final touch, he’s switched out his usual glasses for a pair of half-moon wireframes with little crystals hanging off of the bottom. Somehow, he practically glitters, even without the lights of the ship to illuminate him. 

Juno opens his mouth to say something witty, but words practically fail him at this point. Peter’s absolutely gorgeous at this moment and Juno doesn’t know what to say. 

“I, uh, you too?” Juno looks down and wipes his hand on his skirt even though there’s nothing to really wipe off. He’s nervous and it’s really embarrassing, but it’s been a while since they’ve truly dressed up for a job, and Peter always finds a way to look resplendent without even trying.

“Mista Ransom, guess what I got!” Rita ducks in front of Juno, holding up the box of jewelry in his face. “Shiny things!”

Peter smiles again, taking the box from Rita. “Ah, thank you, Miss Rita. I was wondering where my rings had gone, but I’m happy to know they’ve been in your delicate care.”

Rita smiles, obviously taken with Peter’s charm like she always is. “Why, Mista Ransom!” she says, covering her blushing face with her hands as Peter walks towards Juno, the box cradled in the crook of his elbow. 

“I take it you’re just as nervous about this as I am?” Juno asks, playing with the edge of his sleeve.

Peter shakes his head, reaching over to adjust the cuffs of Juno’s dress so they sit right on his wrists. “This isn’t the first wedding I’ve crashed, Detective, and I don’t intend on it being my last, either.” Once satisfied with the cuffs, Peter trails a hand down Juno’s wrist and brings his hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the skin there. “You learn to get used to it,” he says softly, his breath tickling Juno’s hand. Then he’s gone, heels clicking against the tile of the hallway as he walks back towards the main room.

“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Juno yells, throwing his hands up in the air. “You saw that happen too, right?” He turns to Rita, who looks about as shocked as Juno is himself. 

“I dunno, Boss,” Rita says, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Ever since we came on board the Carte Blanche, there’s been somethin’ weird goin’ on between you and Mista Ransom. I think he still kinda likes you, and you still kinda like him, but both of y’all are too dumb and shy to say anything about it so you just act like you don’t like each other when you really do! Oh, it’s like that one episode of Caelian Heights where Jaelia and Marcus both keep avoidin’ each other ‘cause they don’t wanna admit their feelings even though it’s like completely obvious to literally everyone except them, it’s _such_ a good series, Mista Steel we should watch it togeth—where are you takin’ me? Slow _down_ , Mista Steel, a lady can only run so fast!”

At this point, Juno is completely fed up with being out of the loop of nearly everything that happens on this ship, so he grabs Rita by the wrist and drags her into the living room. Buddy and Jet are already there, Buddy dressed in a deep purple, floor-length gown that sweeps the floor and black gloves that go up to her elbows, her hair a curly supernova around her, and Jet in a simple navy blue suit with a bit of gold dust strewn across his cheeks. They look like proper lounge singers, which’ll probably be appropriate if this wedding party goes the way Juno hopes it will, which is with a _lot_ of alcohol and the smallest amount of people touching him as he can manage.

Peter sits atop one of the bar chairs, a sort of golden headpiece sitting atop his curls with little spikes poking out at odd angles. It’s weird, but it makes him look a little more like a prince off of a long-lost planet and less like an intergalactic thief. His fingers are adorned with all sorts of rings, some of them newer and shinier, and some of them about as familiar to Juno as a homemade quilt, and a pair of rose-shaped earrings. 

“I saved some of the better pieces for you, Eurydice dear. I think there are some rings in there that would go amazingly with your dress.” He’s leaning on one hand, a lazy smile draped across his face. As Juno rifles through the box, he deduces that this is probably the persona of Orpheus Voler; charismatic and flirty and quite possibly a little empty-minded. It doesn’t suit Peter as much as Juno thought it would, but he doesn’t feel the need to call him out on it. 

He settles on a collection of pink quartz rings connected by a series of thin gold chains, a pair of supernova shaped earrings, and a layered necklace to match the rings. He gets them on with no issue, though the necklace almost gets caught in his hair before Peter comes over, untangling the chains with his deft fingers and securing the clasp carefully. 

“You look stunning, my dear.” He gives Juno a pat on the small of his back and smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Is everyone ready? You all look amazing, though do try to not let it distract you from the task at hand.” Buddy stands at her full height at the front of the room, arms crossed. “We’ve arranged for separate cars, one for Juno and Peter, another for Jet and I. We’ll be arriving separately so as to not raise suspicion, so as of right now, you have no idea who anyone in this room is except for who you’ve been partnered with. They aren’t the best escorts, but I cashed in a favor from an old friend, so it’s the best we can get.” She brings a hand up to brush a curl out of her face. “You all are going to do great, enjoy yourselves, get in, and get out. This information is worth more than everyone in this room so we can’t risk leaving without it.”

“Got it, Boss!” Rita says excitedly. Buddy smiles at her for a moment, then turns her gaze back to the rest of her crew. She checks her datapad one last time, then smiles. 

“Alright, crew.” Her smile turns murderous, and Buddy Aurinko has come into her element once more. “Let’s begin.”

* * *

“Darling, I don’t know why we even bothered taking this dingy old car,” Peter says, all but splaying his entire body across Juno’s. His headpiece almost stabs Juno in the face as he throws himself backward, but he narrowly avoids a golden spike to the face. “Our drivers are much more efficient, and I can barely stretch out in the back of this deathtrap!”

Juno winces, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude, dear.” He turns to the driver, a bit of a strained smile on his face. “I apologize for my husband, he’s not used to such… simple forms of transportation.” The driver makes a face, eyes more focused on the couple in his backseat than on the road. Juno makes a mental note to tip heavily once they’ve arrived at the wedding hall because Peter is being insanely bratty right now and it’s a little embarrassing, even if it is just a cover. 

In the back of the car, Juno’s dress takes up almost the majority of the seat. It’s a bit of an uncomfortable ride and Juno’s extremely conscious of how the chauffeur keeps cutting his eyes back at the two of them every now and then. He feels his hand drift down towards his ankle, where he’d strapped a knife, but Peter’s hand catches his own and he laces their fingers together. 

“Time for that later, love,” he says, leaning in close to whisper in Juno’s ear. “There’s a camera located in the back of the passenger seat’s headrest. I don’t know if you’d noticed, but whoever’s loaned these cars out must not be particularly fond of people being rough with their drivers.” Then he abruptly throws his head back and laughs, filling the car with his melodious laughter. “Oh Eurydice, my flower, you are an absolute delight!”

With a grunt, the driver steps on the brake, nearly avoiding rear-ending a fancier car parked in front of them, “We’re here,” he grunts. He reaches over and puts a hand out towards them, waiting for his pay. Peter puts a few creds in his hands, not bothering to look the man in the eyes as he does so. Juno presses more money in his hands and smiles, apologizing as Peter opens the door and steps out.

“My sincerest apologies, truly. We’ll be in touch with your employer, so don’t worry.” Juno tries his best to make his voice as honeyed as possible, waiting for the gruff mask of the limousine driver to slowly dissipate. He gives a drained smile, and the diver sighs, taking the money and tucking it into his wallet. 

“Just get out of my damn car and we’ll call it even,” he says, righting himself in his seat. 

Juno smiles again and takes Peter’s outstretched hand to lift himself out of the car. His dress immediately poofs out around him like a blooming flower and it catches the eyes of a few of the other wedding guests so he offers a shy wave as they pass. Peter loops an arm through his and leads them away from the car and up the stairs to the wedding hall. They walk in perfect tandem, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Juno feels wholly out of place and his hands are sweating like crazy, but Peter’s fingers are steady on the inside of his wrist. His eye travels up the length of the wedding hall, straining his neck a bit to see the full extent of the decoration. It’s all terribly gaudy and just shy of being overdramatic, but if one of the brides has _art collectors_ as distant family, then maybe this is normal for her.

They quickly approach the entrance, and Peter hands over their forged invitation between two slender fingers without sparing the security guard a second glance, while Juno gives him a small smile as they pass across the threshold. Juno pointedly does _not_ try to spin in this dress, and he can tell that Peter is thankful for that. On the inside, the wedding hall is covered in white tulle and gold leaf decorations that give the hall an aura of softness and safety. Other guests skirt around the various tables, carrying champagne flutes and small plates in their hands as they laugh amongst each other. 

“I don’t see anywhere to... dispose of our wedding gift, my dear.” Peter’s voice comes from beside Juno’s ear, which just about startles him out of his dress. Juno looks to where Peter waves a thicker envelope in his face, no doubt filled with the few hundred creds they’d all pooled together because it would be rude to rob a wedding and not leave an actual gift. Besides, none of the money can be traced back to any of them in the first place. 

“I’d just hold onto it, maybe ask around as a way to gather information.” Juno narrows his eyes and looks around. Most of the people here are sleazy high collars, not the cruel, sharp-toothed slimes that occupied the higher parts of Oldtown. These were the rich people that were too dumb for their own good, who threw around money like it would solve all their problems and handled their liquor almost as good as their third divorce. It’d be easy to wheedle information out of them, but he’d have to adopt the same sickly sweet attitude that the rest of them had. 

Peter smiles and squeezes Juno’s bicep lightly. “I see you’ve still retained that one-track mind of yours, detective.” He leans over and rubs a gloved finger over the space between Juno’s eyebrows. “Though I do wish you’d be careful about the wrinkles between your eyes, dear. Laser surgery can only fix so much.” 

Juno accepts the needless doting, smoothing a hand over Ransom’s unoccupied hand when it gets to be too much to handle. Despite the open and inviting atmosphere, Peter has stayed oddly close to him, which isn’t bad considering they’re supposed to be playing spouse and spouse, but some part of Juno wants this all the time. He wants to hold Peter’s hand without it having to be a cover or without pushing him away, he wants so _much_ that he’s afraid he’s going to drown in it if he’s not careful, and it’s almost as frightening as standing at the top of a skyscraper with nothing to keep him from falling but his own wits and whatever common sense hasn’t been beaten out of him at this point. 

Something, rather _someone_ , scrapes past them, which snaps Juno out of his thoughts and forces him to focus on the task at hand. The wedding itself isn’t that big of an affair, Juno’s been to enough classy weddings to know what’s authentic and what constitutes as people just throwing money around until they’re satisfied with the results. Tonight is definitely more of the latter. He wants to assume that the gaudiness comes from a place of love, but it’s most likely just misplaced affection from the bride’s parents.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Juno says, patting Peter’s hand to get his attention. “Why don’t you walk around, dear, find someone to talk to?”

Peter makes a face, like the idea of social interaction disgusts him. “I’ll try my best.” He leans over and presses a kiss to the side of Juno’s head. “Try not to have too much fun without me, love.” 

Juno smiles, squeezes Peter’s hand, and heads over to the bar. Hopefully, they won’t have another Nova Zolotovna incident on their hands, but Juno really just wants to drown his feelings in free champagne. He gets a few sideways looks, which is expected due to the sheer diameter of his gown, but eventually, he makes it to the bar. Hoisting himself up on one of the barstools, Juno drums his fingers on the marble top until the bartender comes his way. 

“What’ll it be for you, miss? Mister?” The bartender heads over, drying a glass as he does so. 

Juno laughs, fiddling with the cuff of his dress. “Miss will do just fine, thank you. I’ll just have a cherry Supernova. And a rosé spritzer for my husband, he’ll be here soon.” He flashes a shy smile. 

“Alrighty, I’ll have that out for you in a bit. Name’s Jerome if you need anything else.” The bartender sets the glass down on the bar and begins pouring his drink. There’s a bottle of Triuscan rum in his hands that smells absolutely delightful, and if Juno wasn’t at a wedding party, he’d be in the corner nursing the entire bottle until he got a good buzz going on. 

Eventually, Peter sidles up to him, a lazy smile on his face. “How are you doing over here, my love?” He brushes a finger over the ring on Juno’s pointer finger, leans in closer, and the smile drops immediately. “I’ve been talking with a few ladies over by the buffet table, and they have a friend who will have the emeralds on her person. They were an anniversary gift from her husband, but the way they described it makes it seem like it was more of an apology for his fifth affair that month.” He leans back, draping one leg over the other. “I think if we can talk her up, she’d be willing to part with it for a certain amount of money.”

Juno resists the urge to whistle in awe. “Impressive. Do we know if she’s here already?”

Peter shakes his head. “She’s one of those ‘fashionably late’ types. Her acquaintances predict she should be here within the next 20 minutes or so, so we have some time to walk the floor if you’d like.”

Juno looks around, scanning the faces of the fellow guests. A few of them have already gotten weirdly attached to the free champagne, so it shouldn’t be so hard to weasel anything out of them. It’s an easy room to milk if he’s being completely honest, but there’s still something off-putting about the wedding itself. 

“Jerome?” he calls over. The bartender looks up from where they’re muddling the raspberries and mint for Orpheus’ spritzer. 

“Y’need somethin’, miss?” Jerome saunters over with a short glass filled with a scarlet and amber-colored liquid in his hands. Its rim is covered in a red powder that slightly glints in the light of the wedding hall, and the top is garnished with a row of pitted cherries on a toothpick. The drink itself is a little different from what Juno’s used to. The bars in Oldtown made it seem a bit trashier, with the same liquors but thrown together in some random glass with a half-rotten cherry and a few cubes of melted ice plopped inside as it was slid across the bar counter. A few months ago, Juno would be partly embarrassed to order something so fancy, but now he’s basking in it, Sure, it’s probably gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning, but there’s no time like the present. 

Juno takes his drink with a smile, ignoring Peter’s jealous side-eye, and sets it down on a coaster. “I was wondering if you could tell us anything about Xiomara and her lovely wife. if you don’t mind? We haven’t spoken to her in months, but I’d like to leave a nice card before the night is over.”

In his ear, Juno hears Vespa say, “way to lay on the schmooze, Steel.” Rita sniggers in the background. His mouth almost pulls into a sneer, but he remembers how nice Eurydice is supposed to be, so he smiles wider and takes a sip from his drink. It’s deliciously expensive and he relishes the taste for a few seconds. 

Jerome smiles toothily, wiping their hands on their apron before leaning their elbow on the bar and cradling their face in one hand. “Well, I’m no expert, but Xiomara and I used to be friends back in the day. She was affluent, I was an asshole, so we got along perfectly. Eventually, we both got drafted for the War for a few years, until I got sent back for nearly blowing out a good chunk of my leg.” They sound sad and wistful, their aura just skirting that of a tired storyteller. Looking closer, Juno sees the lines under their eyes, the slight tremor in their hands as they handle the bottles. The War nearly killed everyone who even came near it, whether it was your mind, your soul, or just your physical body. 

“Nobody could find Xio for years, even after we got discharged, it was like she had disappeared off of the face of the planet. One of the people we had served with ended up contacting us to see if we had heard anything.” They pick up a bottle of rosé and pour it into Orpheus’ glass along with a bit of carbonated water, topping it off with a few raspberries and setting the flute of alcohol next to Juno’s elbow. “Her name, if I’m remembering correctly, was Alessandra Strong.”

Juno just about chokes on his drink. Peter rubs the back of his neck soothingly, shooting Jerome an apologetic look. “I apologize for my wife, it seems as if he can’t hold his liquor as well as he used to.” 

Jerome quirks an eyebrow but goes back to wiping down the remainder of the glasses at the bar. “Anyways, they got back together after Xio got out of the POW camp she was being held in. Alessandra and her caught up in between her jobs with some idiot P.I., and eventually, they both proposed on their seventh date.”

Peter hides a snort in his folded hand, eyes pointedly looking away from Juno. Juno wipes the rum from his lips and sighs. He remembers when he and Alessandra went to find the Free Dome, how she mentioned that she had a fiancee and that she was so excited about their wedding. Juno had given her his well-wishes, saying he probably wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding itself, much less the party afterward. 

Karma always has its goddamn eye out for him, doesn’t it?

“Ah, well, I hope we’ll be able to give our regards to the lovely brides.” Peter smiles, saccharine and sharklike, then grabs Juno’s hand to lead him away from the bar. He holds both of their half-empty drinks in one hand, his fingers wrapped delicately around the glasses, and he rubs a soft hand over Juno’s knuckles. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Even with the additional inches from Juno’s heels, Peter still has to lean down to murmur in his ear, which is entirely unfair to Juno’s poor heart. 

“Just gimme my damn drink, Ransom.” He reaches over and snatches whatever’s left of his Supernova and throws it back, wincing at the harsh burn at the back of his throat. “I just… didn’t expect such a small piece of Mars to follow me all the way here, especially when I tried to fucking hard to leave it behind.”

Peter tuts, and rubs a hand between Juno’s eyebrows again. It’s softer than the first time and Juno finds himself subconsciously leaning into the touch. “What did I say about the wrinkles, dear heart. I wouldn’t worry too much about her stirring up a riot if she does see you, this _is_ her wedding party after all.”

Juno shrugs, leaning his head on Peter’s shoulder. “Hope Buddy doesn’t get pissed that this might end up blowing my cover. If she does, I think she might actually throw me out of the airlock.”

“No need for theatrics, Juno.” Peter pats his head. “We’ve got more pressing matters to attend to right now.” He squeezes Juno’s wrist a little too hard to be comforting, causing Juno to look up, mouth just forming the first of many curse words. Peter shakes his head, then cuts his eyes back to the entrance. Juno peers over his shoulders and sees the reason for Peter’s sudden change in demeanor; there’s a woman, slightly past middle-aged and way too old for a dress with that deep of a neck, but it’s the web of emeralds and silver around her neck that makes Juno’s heartbeat quicken. He quickly drags Peter into a corner and begins feigning small talk so they can talk into their earpieces without getting weird looks from the rest of the guests.

“Buddy,” Peter says. “Our target has entered the room, and it seems she’s a hot topic around here.” Juno looks out over the crowd and sees the woman socializing with various guests, doling out hugs and chaste kisses on the cheek like she’s handing out candy. “It’ll be hard getting her far enough from the crowd to properly steal the necklace, but I’m sure Juno and I can figure out something.”

“That’s good, darling. The necklace is our main priority right now, so try to leave her as unharmed as possible.” Buddy’s smooth voice fills Juno’s ears and he smiles despite himself. Earlier, they’d had a small talk about Juno’s feelings about their mindless attitude towards non-hostile civilians, which then turned into an even smaller talk about his whole aversion towards blood, which eventually resulted in a team meeting where Buddy declared that all blasters must be set to stun unless the assailant gives any indication that they need more than a little shock to the head. Juno had been pleasantly surprised that week; he’d just assumed that his small complaint would most likely go at the very bottom of Buddy’s massive to-do list and he wouldn’t hear anything about it for the next year or so. But, like always, Buddy Aurinko found a way to surprise him. 

Rita’s voice comes screeching into Juno’s left ear and he winces. The minuscule flinch that Peter gives beside him tells him that he’s probably not the only one with irreparable damage to their ears at the moment. 

“Okay, okay, her name’s Isla Rossi! She’s a pretty respected political figure since her husband’s the mayor of some providence on Tetra Minor, but it seems like everyone on the guest list loves her.” There’s a distinct crunching sound, a pause, and then Rita continues. “She’ll most likely talk to Mista Ransom since he’s all tall and fancy lookin’, no offense, Mista Steel.”

“None taken,” Juno grumbles under his breath. Peter flashes him an apologetic smile. 

“I can’t help it, Detective, I practically ooze charisma at this point.” His smile shifts into a teasing grin, and Juno sticks his tongue out at him.

“Quit acting like children, both of you.” Buddy’s voice is like iron, even with the tinny sound of the earpieces. Juno can feel her sharp gaze across the room from the performer’s stage. “Ransom, you go talk to Mrs. Rossi and see if you can sweet-talk your way into the necklace, but please try not to take the poor woman away from her husband. You can only be responsible for so many divorces before people start to get suspicious.”

Peter flips his hair back into place and smiles. “It was one time! And their marriage was a festering dumpster fire, so I saved her a few years of suffering.” He moves to step out of their little alcove, but Juno grabs him lightly by the wrist. 

“Uh. Your shirt lace thingy is all crooked.” He reaches up and undoes the bow at Peter’s neck, which has loosened so much that it can just barely be considered two loops held together by a whole lot of desperation. He carefully redoes it, his fingers brushing the skin of Peter’s throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the skin of Juno’s knuckles. Once it’s done, Juno sinks back from where he was resting on the tips of his toes and clears his throat. “If it’s a little too tight, you can loosen it if you want.”

Peter has a flush high on his cheeks, but his ears are near burning. “I, well, thank you. Can’t have one of us bringing down the whole ensemble, but I’d rather it be me.” Despite his flustered state, he manages a wink. 

Juno blushes, waving him off in the direction of the mingling guests. “Go on and make your fake wife jealous before Buddy kills us both.”

Peter twirls, then vanishes into the crowd. Juno grabs his abandoned drink and takes a few sips, hoping to hide his embarrassment with alcohol. A voice sidles up beside him, and Juno almost jumps out of his skin for the second time of the night. 

“Somehow, you still find yourself falling in love with them every day, don’t you?” He turns, and a smiling face stands next to him, leaning against the wall. She looks out to the crowd with a soft smile on her face, arms crossed over her chest. She isn’t dressed as extravagantly as the other guests, but Juno can catch the sparkle of diamonds on the sleeves of her lace suit jacket. He looks up, and the love-softened face of Alessandra Strong sits next to him.

Well, shit. He takes another drink from Peter’s flute. Somehow, she hadn’t recognized him yet, which would be hard considering the last time she saw him, he was practically starving to death and had sand in every crevice. “I think it’s safe to say I’ve always been in love with him. It never stopped, I think.”

Alessandra makes a strangled noise next to him, and her head snaps down toward him. “Steel?! What in the hell are you doing all the way out here?!”

There isn’t enough alcohol in the world that could have prepared Juno for this conversation. “What? Can’t a lady take a few vacation days?” He pops out his earpiece and sticks it on the collar of his dress. Whatever he and Alessandra are about to talk about, he sure as hell doesn’t want anyone else hearing it.

Alessandra narrows her eyes. “Don’t bullshit me Steel, not at my own wedding party. Xio said this was invite-only, and I’m pretty sure yours is still on Mars.”

Juno feels a pang of fondness hearing that Alessandra had sent him an invite. It then morphs into sadness when he remembers he probably wouldn’t have been able to make it had he not joined the Carte Blanche. “Well, to make a life story short, I’m an intergalactic thief now, and I’m here pretending to be the estranged family of your wife so we can steal something. Not from you or your wife, so stop looking at me like that.”  
  


“I leave you alone for a few months, and this is what you do.” Her voice is muffled like her face is buried in her hands, which wouldn’t really surprise him. 

He looks out into the sea of people, and Peter catches his eye from where he’s talking to Isla, hands flapping about as he converses. He smiles, then looks to the left, and the color drains from his face. His eyes are a collection of worry and questions, his hands drifting towards the knives in his sleeves, but Juno shakes his head. Peter frowns, gives Alessandra a disapproving glance, then dives back into his conversation like his silent one with Juno had never happened. 

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Alessandra says, propping a boot back against the wall. “The one you told me about when I tried to get closer. He’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

There’s nothing left in Juno’s glass but wet fruit and leaves, so he sighs and sets it down on a nearby table. “You are absolutely, a hundred percent, the second to last person I want to be having this conversation with right now.”

“Who’s the first?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“My brother.” Juno looks down at his feet. “But he’s dead as of a bazillion years ago, and I’m not nearly as drunk as I’d like to be right now so that’s all you’re going to hear about _that._ ” 

Alessandra starts like she’s going to say something, then exhales like she’s decided against it. “Well, he’s certainly a looker, I’ll give you that.”

“Haha, real funny,” Juno laughs dryly. “Back in Oldtown, my friends used to say I liked my men how I liked my whiskey: with an active desire to do me harm. Of course, I started that after a beer or two too many, but there’s a reason it stuck.” Everything itches, he can’t tug at his sleeves or mess up his hair because this is a fancy party and he’s supposed to look nice and who knows what Buddy’ll do to him if he comes back with even a loose thread anywhere on this painfully expensive dress.

“The only harm he looks like he’s doing is to your dumb heart, Steel.” Alessandra nudges him with her shoulder, which would have sent him tumbling a few months ago. “You gotta let yourself have nice things sometimes, y’know?”

Juno sighs, long and deep, then claps Alessandra on the shoulder. “Have a great honeymoon.” He moves away from the wall and towards the crowd, lifting up one side of his dress as he walks. Juno looks back and sees Alessandra take a glass from a passing waiter, then raising it to him in a salute. He smiles at her, then keeps walking forward. 

* * *

The party itself had been lackluster at best; Peter got the necklace off of Isla after a few too many glasses of Sangria, but she caught Peter’s hand just as he was walking back towards the bar. Juno, being himself, started a fight as a distraction, which eventually turned into a full-out brawl with knives and stun guns of all kinds. Juno walks out sporting a black eye and a busted lip, with a few additional bruises here and there, and a cloth napkin full of stuffed mushroom for Rita. Peter’s a little less worse for wear, with a slight gash in his upper thigh that Juno remedies with a strip of fabric from his cape tied tight around the wound and a blooming bruise above his left eyebrow. What really hurts, however, is the absence of conversation between the two during the ride back to the ship. 

Whatever chemistry there had been, it was between Orpheus and Eurydice Voler, not Juno Steel and Peter Ransom. 

Once everyone gets their injuries tended to and has changed into more comfortable clothes, Buddy debriefs them quickly, her voice a little raw from singing through the entire night, but Vespa quickly reassures her that she sounded as lovely as ever, along with affirmation from Jet. As they all head off to bed, Juno loosely grabs Peter’s wrist.

“Can you, uh, meet me in the kitchen,” he asks, another hand coming up to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. 

Peter hums. “Lead the way.”

Juno borderline jogs into the kitchen, his palms sweaty and his heart going a mile a minute. Peter leisurely follows, sitting down on one of the stools and resting his chin on his folded hands. 

“I assume you didn’t bring me in here for a glass of water, did you?” He asks. Juno shakes his head. He moves to stand in front of one of the cabinets, bending down to pick out a medium-sized pot. Placing it down on the burner, Juno sighs. Well, better now than never, Ben always said. After rummaging around in the cupboards and finding what he needs, Juno turns to the stove.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this ever since I left you in that hotel room,” Juno says quietly. Behind him, Peter takes a sharp breath. “But, you know, it’s hard admitting that you’ve made a mistake when your life has just been a series of poorly-timed ones over and over again.” He takes out the olive oil and drizzles it into the pan, then turns the heat on.

“I have my issues, you know I do.” He takes some garlic and what is hopefully a shallot and throws them into the pot, stirring them around with a wooden spoon. “But the shit in my head doesn’t excuse what I did to you. You were so ready to see the stars, to take me with you on your adventure to everywhere, and I was just so caught up in the idea of someone really loving me that I couldn’t take it all in.” The garlic smells fragrant enough, so he adds in some vegetable broth. “When I woke up, I just couldn’t take it. I was so afraid that we’d leave Mars together, and we’d have so much fun together, but eventually, you’d get tired of me.” Next goes the coconut milk. “Everyone always gets tired of me, Peter, they always do.” 

The honey goes next, and it’s stubborn as hell to get off of the spoon and into the pot, so Juno just pours the bottle into the pot and stops when he feels like it's enough. “I wish I could apologize for leaving that room, I really do, but I don’t think I can bring myself to regret it. Staying on Mars taught me a lot about myself; I gained an eye, lost an eye, talked to my dead twin brother in a mental dreamscape while losing said eye.”

Peter makes a questioning noise behind him, and Juno chuckles. 

“But, what I do want to apologize for, is leaving you. I left that night, and it turned out to be the worst decision I’ve ever made. Leaving you made my heart break all over again. It felt like we were in that bunker with Miasma, and she had you behind that two-sided glass and I was strapped down to that godforsaken chair and I could hear you cry and scream, but I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t save you, Peter Nureyev, and I think that scared me more than anything the world had to offer. I didn’t realize that walking away from that hotel meant walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me, and as soon as I realized it, you were gone. I’m so sorry I took that decision away from you, made you feel like you weren’t worth a minute of my time.” Juno can barely see the sim-pumpkin purée or any of his spices through the welling tears in his eyes, but he adds them to the pot anyway and gives it a good stir.

“And until I saw you again, the only memory I had of you was from that night, when you told me that you hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in nearly two decades. My first thought, and my only thought since today was that I hadn’t gotten the chance to cook for you yet. I miss you, Nureyev, I really do. I don’t want to say I love you because I don’t want to scare you away, but you were worth it.” He gestures to all of himself, the five-point scar where he felt his first non-stun blast, the sunken patch where his second-best eye used to be, the small space between his two front teeth that Benzaiten taught him how to whistle through a few dozen smiles ago, even his bleeding, shrunken little heart. “All of it. Even my ratty old t-shirt and my too-big shorts and the socks that Rita says I should probably throw away. Every single bit of it.” 

Juno’s crying big and ugly now, snot and tears mixing together and hiccups shaking his body. There’s a soft shuffling, the sound of cotton against the tile, and suddenly Juno has an armful of Peter Nureyev, who is making the ugliest crying face Juno has ever seen. His face is red and blotchy under his tanned skin, and there are tears staining the front of his silk nightgown. Juno has never seen a more beautiful man. 

“Oh, Juno, dearest.” He sobs. “Gods, I wish I had noticed it sooner, but you were so depressed and suicidal after we left Miasma and I was too hopped up on freedom and the adrenaline from barely skating the line to notice. We were younger back then, Juno, even if we don’t think we were.” He straightens up, looking down at Juno with reverence, and Juno’s counting all the stars he can see in Nureyev’s eyes. “I forgave you, even though I didn’t want to admit it. You hurt me, and I had to lick my wounds for a while, but I don’t think I could ever bring myself to hate you.” He presses a kiss, lighter than air, to Juno’s forehead, and Juno thinks that if Nureyev lets go of him, he’ll start floating. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Juno says, tears clogging his throat. “But I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He buries his face in Nureyev’s nightgown and breathes in his cologne, a scent that had nearly escaped him in all these years

Peter smiles, and it's one of the ones that Juno wants to trap in a jar and look at forever. “I was told that soup makes an excellent conversation partner, and whatever you have on the stove smells absolutely divine.”

“Consider this the first meal of many.” He steps up on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Nureyev’s cheek, right over his favorite freckle.

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Peter says, and sweeps Juno up for a proper kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAAAA ITS FINALLY OVERRRRRRRRRRR! i had so much fun writing this, you guys have no idea! much love to the penumbra bang discord + mods for the writing support, general fun, and for celebrating my 16th with me! this was my first big bang, and now that I've done it, it won't be my last! again, thank you to my artists y'all are so TALENTED im literally rolling on the floor rn
> 
> i am a firm believer in the properties of food as a love language, and kabert made the mistake of making juno an okay cook because i took it and ran with it for the entirety of this fic. juno and peter are going to eat pumpkin soup and talk about their feelings like adults, then they're gonna eat pumpkin soup and cry for a while like toddlers. its okay, they're okay. 
> 
> also JUNO AND RITA! they're best friends and i have so much fun writing them as such (as you can tell). writing them as best friends/borderline siblings makes me happy bc juno's kinda snarky but he and rita have so much fun together and i Know that juno "mars was the only thing making me pissed as shit" steel is going to love the fuck out of rita now that they're far away from home and he can be as soft as he wants
> 
> writing buddy and vespa made me into a yearning lesbian but writing buddy and vespa after listening to shadows on the ship has sent me to the FLOOR they are in love ive never been happier
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated, anything else can be sent to my tumblr @ huaslian


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